The two of you so close, but far
by girloncaffeine
Summary: No matter how close she was with the two of them, considering them to be her best friends, she still couldn't reach out to them. Story about gaining and losing friends writteng from Lola's OC PoW. Oh, how she would wish to understand those two!
1. Killing time

Disclaimer: I don't own Death note, Matt or Mello (believe it or not)

Killing time

I remember that night as if it was yesterday, although more than three years have passed since. Yet the resentment and disappointment that were left behind still felt so alive in my memories and in my heart. I could still remember how cold the window glass was when I leaned my forehead on it while watching him go away. I could still feel the touch of rough fabric of the drapes that I clung on to when collapsing in tears after he was out of my sight. I could still taste the same bitterness after realizing he was forever gone… Whether my whole life could have been different if I hadn't stayed silent back then, is something I will never be able to find out. But still, I can't help but to wonder "What if?". Leading a life based on a single regret is more difficult than I could have ever imagined.

When shifting my eyes over to where Matt was sitting, I noticed how calm he seemed, holding his PSP and playing yet another one of those games whose name I didn't know. The last game I have played was probably the Wild Gunman. Those were the times! I sucked at it, always failing to kill my enemy. The little 2- dimensional guy with mustaches was always quicker than me so I decided to stay away from any kind of games, in fear of getting humiliated by a man with a sombrero. That was a real blow to my ego.

Although he was deeply concentrated on his game, Matt sensed I was staring at him and, his eyes still focused on that little LCD screen, and he started talking to me.

"So, you have called the airport to confirm the flight, haven't you?"

"Yes, I have, I told you that already…", I responded in a sort of irritated fashion.

"No need to get angry, Lola, I just felt like asking something to break this tension between us.", he smiled, still killing off virtual enemies.

"What tension? There is no tension…where do you come up with stuff like that?"

"Well, you're awfully quiet today. You're just sitting in that sofa of yours and staring at the walls, as if something's troubling you. At first I thought that it might be because of something I did, but as far as I can remember, I did nothing wrong…", Matt paused his game and turned his head to where I was sitting, waiting for an answer.

"It has nothing to do with you.", I said angrily. I guess I could have been less cruel in giving an explanation, but at that moment, Matt's observations were just far too annoying.

"Oh, I see…", he said quietly, reaching to his pocket for a cigarette.

"Those things are going to kill you one day…", I hated the fact he was such a nicotine addict, but I also knew that me saying how dangerous those things were is not going to magically reform him into a non-smoker. All I got back was a smug smile, as always.

"People like us don't get killed by lung cancer.", he said, while lighting up the cigarette.

"You don't have to be old to get sick, Matt!", his recklessness was so damn frustrating from time to time, that I just had to raise my voice a bit.

"Well if you're so keen to lead a healthy life, maybe you should start reforming your own lifestyle by…um…I don't know- actually sleeping from time to time!", he said mockingly, through smoke.

"Insomnia is not something I have chosen, it just happened!", I snapped at him. How could he just say such a thing, when he knew how much I suffered from sleep deprivation? I couldn't help but to wonder if he was starting to question my reliability as his partner. To be honest with myself, I wouldn't want my life to depend on someone who slept the total of barely two hours each night and whose every action could potentially be affected by the inability of concentration. Especially now, with our big mission only few days ahead of us and the factor of jet lag that could possibly worsen my situation, I had to admit Matt had every right to question me. But still, he said nothing further.

"Matty...",I said with a patronizing undertone.

"Stop using that nickname for me. I'm not a kid anymore.", he hissed back at me, with that awful cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

"I know. It's just that…" I stopped in the middle of my sentence and finished it in my thoughts _"…but for me, you'll always be the kid I need to protect._"


	2. The crayon bully

The crayon bully

Ever since I have met him, since I have seen that new kid sitting alone at the big dining room table, back at Wammy's house more than a decade years ago, I have taken it upon myself to make him feel accepted and protected. Even though I was only little over a year older than him, I felt that it was my duty to show him that Wammy's was his new home, his true home. His only home.

I sat right next to Matt and offered him my help. He was very shy at first, but eventually, I noticed some positive changes in his behavior. I must admit that, me taking Matt under my wing and eventually befriending him, wasn't done purely by the goodness of my heart, but it was driven mostly by its loneliness. Because, from the day I was brought to that orphanage I felt as if I was the loneliest person in the whole damn universe. Seeing him for the first time, I decided to make him my friend. And from that day on he was all that I wanted him to be – a best friend and a companion who brought color into my grey world, a brother that I never had and a safe haven whose very existence made my heart feel at peace.

I didn't really care if other kids thought we were weird and that they made fun of us. None of it really mattered since we had each other. That is - until the day a certain blonde kid approached us, full of himself, graced with one hell of an attitude, looking at us with a cunning smirk. I immediately knew he was up to no good.

Give me your crayons! – he was rather blunt about what he wanted, pointing at the box of crayons in front of Matt and me.

You can get them when we're done drawing. – Matt said, still finishing his dribbles.

I think you're done. – the annoying blonde brat pulled his paper away from him and waved with it right in front of Matt's nose.

Hey, that's just mean! Give it back! – I tried to interfere, shocked by this sudden rudeness.

Make me! – the kid grinned.

Whatever, just leave it, Lola. I can always make another one. – Matt pulled my sleeve, as he saw I was getting ready to stand up.

Oh, so your girlfriend has to protect you, huh?! That's just lame!– the kid said in a mocking tone, still smiling from ear to ear.

It's not right, you know?! You can't take other's people stuff! – I was really irritated.

Well, I think I just showed you I can! – he was still waving with that piece of paper, proud of what he had done.

Just take the crayons, all right! – all that Matt wanted was for him to leave and let us be.

I don't want them… It's no fun when you won't fight for them. - he said and threw the twirled up piece of paper that was once Matt's drawing right back at our table. Both Matt and myself were rather confused by his action and we just looked as the kid turned away from us. At that moment, Matt surprised me with his suggestion.

Do you want to sit with us? We can all draw together…– he blurted out while I was looking at him in disbelief. I wanted to scream at him – how could he offer that ill mannered, rude, obnoxious little kid a seat at our table!?

Sure, whatever… - he said and sat at one of the chairs that were surrounding our round shaped table. He took one of the crayons and started drawing something, without a word. From that moment on, our little party of two became a group of three – because Mello became our friend.

An inseparable bond of friendship has been created on that day, from a really awkward situation, a silent pact between three preschoolers who decided to face all the life's difficulties together. Knowing I have Matt and Mello with me, in good times and in bad, I finally felt happy, complete, despite the fact that my real family has abandoned me before I was old enough to remember them. And, I say this with all the sincerity of my heart – I was glad I had no memories of those times. Because what I had here, this 'family' that was artificially created by the three of us was far more important to me than any other 'normal' family could ever be. It was only on those rare occasions that I felt as if Matt and Mello understood each other on a level I would never be able to comprehend, but the sudden rush of overdramatized melancholy would always pass soon enough, for I would realize I had to be grateful they were here. Close to me. Asking anything more than that would be overdoing it.


	3. High flyers

Disclaimer: I don't own Death note, Matt or Mello (believe it or not)

…………………………………………

High flyers

The airport security was as thorough as ever. We passed through the metal detector without causing much stir. Matt and I felt just as any other passenger on the flight W1-908 from London to Los Angeles. If only they knew what was hidden in the inner layers of our jackets, they would have stopped us right away. Not only that, they would most likely lock us up in maximum security prison.

But for us, that kind of thinking was out of the question. We were determined not to get caught, hell, we weren't allowed to be caught. I was seconds away from sensing tiny drops of sweat rolling down my forehead, as the officer questioned us about where we were going, but I still managed to keep myself grounded…somehow. I tried to convince, not only the officer but also myself, that we were just a couple of tourists eager to see all the wonders of Hollywood. The truth was that we weren't planning on going anywhere near the studios. Luckily, Matt showed him his bag filled with cameras and various lenses, so we were saved from further questioning. The officer even wished us a safe trip and we had to promise him we would send him pictures of celebrities if we caught any. Oh, that silly security officer, bless his heart!

From the moment we were safely tugged into our seats and when the plane took off, I felt as if a giant stone was lifted right from my chest. The first part of our mission went well and now I could finally relax a bit. But Matt was a completely different story. When going through check-in he was relaxed and cheerful, only to completely change his demeanor when sitting onto his seat.

"I told you not to watch that show about plane crashes on Discovery last night.", I said mockingly, assuming that was the reason behind his anxiety, combined with his nicotine addiction, of course.

"It's not that…", he murmured while nervously flipping the ticket he still held in his hands.

"How will you manage without a ciggy for more than 10 hours?", I asked him with a smirk on my face, but I really felt sorry for him, knowing that he has to smoke one at least every 20 minutes. I was secretly praying he wouldn't get too cranky on me.

"It isn't the cigarettes I'm worried about. It's our job.", he looked at me seriously.

"C'mon, if they didn't figure it out during the control what's the chance they're going to do it now. It's not like we're doing this for the first time.", I whispered, trying not to draw any unnecessary attention towards us.

"It's the first time outside of England, Lola. We've never crossed the border with this…stuff before."

"Oh, what's the difference!? London, Los Angeles… people are greedy everywhere.", I tried to explain to Matt that there was really no difference in these two cities when it came to placing our 'product' on the market. Well, black market in our case. Although, to be honest, I to was a little unsure about our new customers that we knew so little about. But doubt was never a reason to stop us from doing business. If that was the case we never would have earned a penny.

There we were, sitting somewhere above the Atlantic with 5 million pounds worth a merchandise sewn into our jackets. One of us shaking from fear the other one acting confident, but dying on the inside. I don't know what was worse, but I thought that if I can hold myself together, I'll protect Matt from stressing out even more. We sure were no average teenagers, Matt and me. While our peers were enjoying this carefree time of life, going through high school and falling in love for the first time, we were already wanted criminals with several identities and successful smugglers of valuable items. This time, we were testing out something new, something different than what we were used to deal with. It was easier to handle than drugs or weapons, so small that it could easily fit every pocket, and what was more important – it was much prettier than a gun or a bag of cocaine, for it didn't have that murderous connotation to it. And much easier to smuggle to another continent, I might add. This was the first time we were trying something like this and we decided that – if it works, we could do it more often.

"How much do we know about them?", Matt blurted out in the middle of the night. It surprised me, for I thought he was fast asleep. Hell, I even saw him take some sleeping pills few hours earlier. That should have kept him silent longer. Poor Matt, he didn't even know how to take prescription drugs properly.

"Who are you talking about?", I was confused.

"You know…the customers.", he whispered into my ear.

"Not much. Just that they are willing to offer us huge amount of money.", I shrugged my shoulders, not being able to give him a further explanation. We've discussed this matter a thousand times before, back at home, so I didn't see a point in going through it again.

"Do you think that's enough?", he frowned, or at least it seemed so in the dark atmosphere of this night flight.

"I think 5 million are more than enough.", I said even though I knew it wasn't the sum of money he had his doubts about.

"Idiot!", Matt hissed and turned his head away from me.

"I cannot tell you things you would like to hear.", I said in an apologizing manner.

"You never could.", his words slashed right through me.


End file.
